Chapter Five.
Grip on for Life.
It was the evening of Dylan’s birthday. He was eighteen, smiling all day.
We didn’t do much, just kind of lounged around the house and what not. Right now, we were playing Black Ops on the Xbox I had gotten last year.
“Alyssa, prepare to die,” he laughed as if he was an evil villain in a cartoon.
“Whatever, dude. I’m totally killing this,” I smirked confidently, even though I knew I wasn’t.
My mouth gaped open, and I looked over at Dylan who had a victorious grin on his face.
“Meanie,” I pouted, sticking out my tongue. “You could have at least be a gentleman and let me win.”
“Whatever. Come on, let’s go watch Mean Girls,” he piped up, pulling me with him into my room.
I sat on my bed, as he set the DVD up. He came back over and sat next to me once it started.
*
“Dude, that never gets old.”
“Dude, you’re so not a dude,” I deepened my voice, and he laughed.
He pressed the power off on the remote, and the screen went black. We both snuggled in underneath the covers, and he pulled me clothes.
*
Hours passed, and neither one of us had slept a wink. We hadn’t said anything, just appreciated the silence.
It was the first night I was in his arms on the bed. Only because we both knew it was happening. I was getting weaker, more frail and stiff. Dylan had felt it too, I know he did.
We were in the dark hours of the night when I felt an excruciating pain in my lower stomach.
It was happening.
I squeezed tighter onto Dylan’s t-shirt. It was the one I bought him.
This was it.
He knew it too.
His grip around me getting tight, pulling me in closer.
I didn’t let a sound escape my body, I just scrunched up my face and shut my eyes. I wanted this to be peaceful for Dylan.
Dylan. He was not my significant other; neither was he my boyfriend or lover, but a friend. My only friend. My best friend. My soul mate.
I was destined to meet Dylan, just as everyone was destined to die. It was meant to happen, and I’m glad it did.
Dylan’s smile was the most beautiful, and I’m glad I lived to see it.
“Don’t go.” He whispered barely audible. His tears fell on my head.
It was then that my grip loosened.
It was then that bulimia took me.
It was then that I died in a friend’s arms.
My eating disorder took my life away, that doesn’t mean it will take yours. I lost my battle, you don't have to. You're still alive, and breathing, that's one step closer to overcoming this horrible monster. Fight it, do all you can to stop it consuming you.
You don’t want the people who love you live to regret you’re mistake of holding off recovery to ‘lost just a few more pounds’.
Because you don’t just lose a few pounds,
You lose everything.
YOU ARE READING
Limited Life
Short StoryI'm not in control, my eating disorder is. Yes, I have an eating disorder, and yes, it has absolutely ruined my life. I'm not me anymore, I am my eating disorder. My ED is everything to me. It's all I have, and it's all I don't want.
